‘Being a woman did not give me the licence to break traffic rules’
THE SONG on the tuner was Time by Pink Floyd, as I drove on the moonlit road, along the endless string of yellow lamps on a beautiful summer night. It curved into a majestic arc at the Barapullah road in Delhi. I drove fearlessly at midnight.
I was initiated into the art of acceleration after I began college. My parents were intrepid enough to let their daughter stay out for long hours — only on the premise that I was safe in the car and was not using public transport at night. Daddy’s girl got a car to take on the world with the route she deemed best. The route may have shifted since, but the engine runs the same. I gradually became a veteran driver on Delhi’s roads and had little to fear, as long as I had my car.
That night, I drove detached, crossing the silhouette of the Red Fort and staring at the endless road ahead, as my car roared with pleasure. A while later, I took a left turn from Rajpath, when a cop signalled me to pull over.